A Capacity For Nursing
by petitesorciere
Summary: Draco has a headache and Hermione happens to walk in on him. Adult content


_**AUTHOR'S NOTE - while this story isn't exactly smut (if you want to read smut, I've written some of those - check out my author page), it's rated mature for a reason. Please bear this in mind if you shouldn't be reading mature stories. **_

Draco rubbed his temples in the long-suffering manner that had taken him hours to perfect, and resisted the urge to scream in frustration. ''I've asked you politely enough Madam Pomfrey, now can you please hand over whatever potion you've been secreting for your own headaches?''

''Mr Malfoy, I assure you that storming into my study and demanding a painkilling potion with menaces will do nothing to encourage me to hand over said potion.''

'' I can't think straight – I clearly need something!''

The nurse heaved herself onto tired feet and pointed imperiously at the door. ''Leave my study now.''

''Well, I can't concentrate with this headache, and am therefore clearly sick. As you refuse to give me the means with which to halt my predicament, I will not be able to leave the sickbay.'' Turning his back on her, Draco marched out into the ward, and settled himself on one of the beds. The matron looked after him, but decided that she simply couldn't be bothered. She spent her days dealing with increasingly whiny children, she thought, she deserved a break. If Malfoy wanted to waste the opportunity of education, fine. Realising it was dinnertime; she closed her office door and strode out the door, her heels clicking on the polished floor. Let Malfoy stay up here and sulk.

Draco lay back against the plump pillows and sighed in satisfaction. Either way he was a winner: Pomfrey would crack and give him the potion, or he could spend several days in peace and quiet, away from the gormless ineptitude of Crabbe and Goyle. Brushing his hair off his forehead, he smirked. Life was good, even with the headache.

Just as he was idly wondering if he would be able to drift off, even though it was only six in the evening, the door creaked loudly, sending splintering pain ricocheting through his skull. Raising himself up, he glared at the open door.

Hermione Granger stuck her head through the door and cast around for Madam Pomfrey. All she needed was something to relax the muscles in her neck; they seemed to have seized up after a night of bending her head over the latest essay. She was just about to call again when an irritable voice rolled out of the gloom of the ward.

''Either come in or get out.''

Hermione furrowed her brows, wondering who would be so gratuitously rude. Stepping into the room, she saw the gleam of white-blonde hair and immediately understood. ''Oh, it's you.''

''Yes, it's me Granger, and to be honest I don't particularly need you hanging around in doorways, creating enormous amounts of noise when I'm trying to feel better.''

''Poor baby, what have you got? A papercut?'' Her biting tones caused him to rear up and glower at her.

''I wouldn't expect you to understand.'' He sulked.

''Oh for Merlin's sake, you're exactly like all other men. You get a cold, or a headache, or something and you think you're dying.''

''I don't think I'm dying. I'd just prefer not to spend my days walking around with crushing pain in my head when I could get a simple potion and solve the problem. Unfortunately, Pomfrey doesn't seem too keen to oblige.'' Rubbing one side of his head, he looked at Hermione. Why wasn't she seeming as irritating as she usually did? ''Why are you here?''

''I have…a…uh…a sore neck.'' She mumbled, aware that she sounded just as pathetic as he did.

''And you say I'm being stupid?''

''I didn't actually,'' she challenged, her cheeks red.

''Oh. Well, your excuse sounds stupid.''

''Do you feel big and clever now you've insulted me?'' She asked, glad that she was standing up while he was slouched on the bed. But for some reason, she didn't feel incredibly superior. He looked like he was getting ready to pounce and she felt like some small town hick, unable to comprehend the insults that were being thrown at her.

'''Unfortunately, no. Maybe that'll come once the excruciating pain has gone. Your voice isn't exactly helping matters though.'' Draco thought idly that that wasn't entirely true. Her voice wasn't anywhere near as shrill as he'd been thinking of it in the past few years. It was quite a soft voice actually. Almost appealing. Almost.

''Oh, for pity's sake.''' Hermione looked around, still couldn't see Madam Pomfrey, and decided that no potion could be worth this much personal abuse. ''I'm going.''

''Without your cure for your deadly sore neck?''

''I don't need it badly enough to stay here with you.''

''Shame.''

''What?'' She paused on her way to the door and turned around to stare at Draco.

Draco wondered what exactly had made him say that. On the face of it, the situation that they had found themselves in didn't seem notably different to the dozens of others that he had found himself in with her. They had begun with the mutual antipathy, they had progressed through the casual insults and degradation of the other, and she was preparing to leave, both feeling like they had somehow gained the upper hand. So why had he practically invited her to stay?

Because she was taking his mind off his headache? That was feasible, he mused, poking clinically at his feelings, trying to analyse them. It was difficult to see another reason, but he was sure that he didn't want Granger – Hermione Granger – around him simply because it was taking his mind off pain. And why was she the one who was taking his mind off pain? Surely she ought to be making the situation worse? ''I said, it's a shame you don't need anything badly enough to stay here with me.''

''Why?''

''That's the golden question Granger. I'm not entirely sure why, which is very irritating because when if I knew what it was that is encouraging me to try and persuade you to stay, I could squash it.''

''So you want me to stay but you don't know why?''

''No. Do you want to stay here?''

Hermione looked at him, his grey eyes enigmatic. He didn't look any different to the boy that she hated in her day-to-day life, but standing in the dusky light of the sickbay, it didn't seem like she was in her day-to-day life. It was a twilight zone. So that would mean that what she said didn't really count, and she could say what she was thinking.

What was she thinking, she wondered. She knew that if she stepped out of the door, and ran down the stairs into the brightly lit dining hall, she would find Ron eating with his absolutely atrocious table manners, and Harry staring soppily at Ginny. She could pretend that the whole encounter never happened, and carry on hating Draco.

Or, she could turn into the room, walk towards Draco, and actually talk to him. She could pretend that there wasn't a difference and an unconquerable divide between the two of them, which would be…pleasant? Maybe. But why did she even want to talk to him? It was possibly the most peculiar situation of her life, coming above the time when she was ten and in a Muggle school, and her pencil case had exploded after she only got six out of ten in a test.

''I don't really know if I want to stay. But I don't think I really want to go.''

''Well, that sounds like you want to stay.'' He was irritable, and she thought again about running back to the relative normality of Hogwart's dinner. But her body had other plans and was moving her further into the room. In fact, it was misbehaving to an appalling degree and was bringing her closer to Draco than could be considered either comfortable or sane. She didn't want to be near him, she shrieked inside her head, she wanted to be on the other side of the door, with people who didn't scare her. But those people didn't make her feel exhilarated, and her body had decided that it wanted exhilaration.

Draco watched her step closer, almost tentatively, and thought that she had extraordinarily nice legs. Shapely, he decided absentmindedly, that was the word for them. Even though he could only see her lower leg, given that her thighs were demurely clad in the regulation knee-length skirt. I'd like to see her naked, he thought, and then jerked slightly. Why, he asked his brain. I don't know, it responded, but she's actually quite pretty. And she doesn't fawn over you. She's entirely unimpressed. And you know what they say about the quiet ones…they fuck like rabbits.

Draco looked at Hermione. He couldn't picture the word 'fuck' being applied to her. It seemed too abrupt, too harsh. She would…Merlin, he didn't know what she would do. She wouldn't copulate, that would be too clinical. She wouldn't screw, that was too simple. She wouldn't make love, that was too sappy. So what would sex with Hermione Granger be like? He raised an eyebrow and eyed her appraisingly. He would find out.

Hermione saw his eyebrow cock up, and felt the intensity of his gaze pick up another notch. She didn't know what to say. She probably shouldn't make reference to the fact that they had managed to go over thirty seconds without wanting to kill each other, because she had a sneaking suspicion that that would bring the détente to an abrupt end, and she didn't want that. So instead, she just moved slightly closer to him. She could see him in greater detail now, and realised that he had loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt. She could see the top of his smooth chest, see the way that his collarbones jutted out slightly beneath the pale skin. I'd like to see the rest of his chest, she thought, and then, before she had time to analyse what had just raced across her brain waves, she was thinking about what it would be like to sit atop of Draco Malfoy, her hands tracing his lower stomach and sliding into his trousers, discovering the thing that was at the centre of so much female gossip and speculation. I'd like to…to be with Draco Malfoy, she thought, entirely taken aback at this revelation.

Do I really, she second-guessed. Yes, I do, she immediately answered. Well, I'll make it happen then, she thought, and decided that further thought on the matter would only prove to be counter-productive. So, instead, she moved even closer to the bed that he was reclining on. ''How's your headache?''

The look in his eyes made her sure that he was having exactly the same kind of thoughts as her. She didn't know how or why she knew this, but it suddenly seemed vitally important to make the most of this knowledge. Draco saw a glint in her eye that hadn't been there before, and thought that he had been entirely right. It was always the quiet ones. Excellent.

''Still sore.''

She was moving even closer now, sitting on the edge of his bed and gazing at him. ''Is there anything I can do to help?''

''What would you like to do to help me?''

Now she was moving even closer, the side of her hips pressing against the side of his waist. ''Anything I can do to help. I'm a very caring person.''

''In that case, I just want something to help with the pain please nurse.''

And his lips were seeking hers, and from the moment that their mouths touched, they were both lost.

Hermione felt light headed, her common sense, her pragmatism floating away into the ether. She felt like chocolate melting in a pan, becoming liquid and malleable. The only things that felt completely real were Draco's hands, anchoring her to him. She slid her hands around the back of his neck, tugging him closer and closer. His tongue gently flicked across her lips and she thought she might have died and gone to heaven.

Draco clutched at her small waist and wondered how he could possibly be expected to show any kind of restraint when her hands were stroking at his jaw, loosening his tie, sliding inside his shirt, while her breath blew in his ear as she nuzzled his neck. He had entertained the notion that he would actually be in charge of the proceedings, but she was already pushing him back against the pillows, moving over his body with the graceful precision of a dancer. And yet when he looked in her eyes, she was anything but controlled. Her pupils were dilated, her breathing uneven, a faint smile quirking the corners of her lips.

It was the smile that undid him. He sat up and sought her mouth with an increasing urgency, pulling at her shirt as he did so. Almost without them noticing, the rest of their clothes were falling to the floor, and they were staring hungrily at each other, revelling in each other's beauty. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, how she should never be allowed to hide herself under clothes, how the hunger that he felt for her was so unreal, how it was so out of proportion to what he had ever thought that he could feel for her, but he knew that he didn't need to. He could see it mirrored in her eyes: the hunger, the lust, the confusion, the admiration, and a million things more.

And with that, they fell upon each other, scratching and squeezing, licking and nipping, kissing and biting. They were unable to get enough of the other, always sure that if they could just hold a little more to them, just touch that one patch of skin, then the hunger that had flared up in them so unexpectedly would be sated and they could go back to normality. But even as Hermione threw back her head in ecstasy, and held Draco tighter to her, as he buried his face in her hair and lost himself, as they forgot who they were and why they hated and why they loved and why anything else in the world existed but that moment, they knew that they had forsaken normality. And that was almost more wonderful than what had just happened because normality was drab and boring and full of stupid acquaintances and people with terrible table manners, and why would any of that matter more than the incredible confusion and desire that flamed without warning and took them both prisoner?

Rolling apart slightly, Hermione's head propped up on Draco's arm, they looked at the ceiling and wondered what they were meant to say now. Draco was pondering this question when he realised he already knew the answer. Bending his head down, he kissed her, slowly, gently and seductively.

When they broke apart, Hermione began pulling on her clothes, watched by Draco through his inscrutable silver eyes. Finally dressed, already burning again simply from his gaze, she turned back to him.

Draco looked at her, prim and proper. No one would ever know that she had lain his arms only minutes ago, exhorting him to carry on, to never stop. Shifting slightly, willing himself not to throw himself upon her and bring her to the floor in a tangle of limbs, he smiled.

''How's your headache?''

''Much better. You clearly have a capacity for nursing.''

She laughed softly and brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, catching his eyes and then demurely lowering her gaze again.

''Well, now I've taken the cure, what do I do?''

She smiled at him, a minxy, naughty smile, completely at odds with her appearance. ''You call me in the morning so I can see how you are.''

_**AN: Ladies and gentlemen, I'm back! Hurrah! Just to let everyone know, I will be updating all stories asap, I just thought of this story on the bus and HAD to get it written. Hopefully you enjoyed it - I haven't written anything like this for a while, so all comments, constructive criticism, and lovely reviews are very welcome! Love...petitesorciere xxx**_


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